


In Search of a Word

by Remy_Writes5



Series: Bed Sheets and Coat Closets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Fun, Jealousy, Light Bondage, M/M, Model Jim, Model Sherlock, Past Relationship(s), Photographer John, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sherlock, Sleepy Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:18:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remy_Writes5/pseuds/Remy_Writes5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after "I've Just Seen A Face". John knows that he and Sherlock are something to each other, he just isn't sure what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Search of a Word

            Sherlock Holmes was part hurricane, part man, all bastard. At least that is the conclusion John Watson had come to based on his short time knowing him. The man ran hotter and colder than a fridge on the fritz. The man had mood swings that John just couldn’t get his head around.

            But he was too far gone and he knew it. After just a few short weeks, John was stupidly infatuated with the daft bastard. They had fallen into a bizarre sort of routine, which involved them becoming comfortable with each other, followed by Sherlock getting bored and picking a fight with John. They would have a spectacular row followed by even better sex. Sherlock would leave for a shoot and when he returned the whole thing would start over again.

            Sherlock was currently in his dressing gown, having a sulk on his sofa, refusing to go to the gala with John. “Sherlock, you promised,” John reminded him, too exhausted to really argue. He’d just gotten off a twenty hour long flight from Sydney and he was cranky and tired. He was also in no mood to go ten rounds with Sherlock Bloody Holmes. He rubbed his eyes and wondered why he was even bothering.

            “You know what, fuck it,” John said, giving up on the whole enterprise. “We’ll both stay home.”

            Sherlock smiled triumphantly until he noticed John heading for the door, at which point his face fell. “Where are you going?”

            “Home,” John answered, getting his coat on. “I’m not equipped to deal with your moods tonight, Sherlock. If I stay here I’ll only end up killing you or myself or both. I don’t think jet lag is a suitable defense in court.” John stabbed his arms into his sleeves angrily.

            “I don’t want you to leave,” Sherlock informed him, pursing his lips in an unmistakable pout.

            “Well, it isn’t all about what you want,” John retorted, zipping up his coat angrily.

            Sherlock was off of the sofa and pressed up against John in seconds. John blamed his slow response time on the long flight. “John,” Sherlock purred. “You’ve been gone for five days.”

            “Oh, so you actually noticed my absence for once,” John said, hating the way his body seemed to be melting back against Sherlock.

            “I always notice,” Sherlock rumbled, his voice low and sensual, damn him. His hand reached around and unzipped John’s coat slowly. “Stay, I want you to stay.”

            John felt like his body had become putty. He was too tired to fend off Sherlock Holmes. “Bloody bastard,” he cursed under his breath. Sherlock chuckled softly and kissed the place behind John’s ear that John liked very much. He let out a little mewling sound and bared his neck to his lover.

            “Did you miss me, John?” Sherlock asked, carefully, meticulously unbuttoning John’s shirt.

            John groaned and nodded, his head lolling to the side afterwards. He was too tired to even keep his head up. He shouldn’t have had those two glasses of wine on the flight. Wine always made him sleepy.

            Sherlock sunk his fingers into John’s hair and tilted his head up. He sucked a lovebite onto John’s neck as John groaned. He was painfully aware of two things. 1. That Sherlock Holmes could basically do anything he wanted to John in that moment. 2. That he was painfully hard from that knowledge.

            “I’m going to fuck you tonight, John,” Sherlock murmured, sliding his hand down and rubbing John through his trousers.

            “What about the gala?” John said, his eyelids becoming heavy.

            “They’ll be another gala, there always is,” Sherlock told him.

            “Hmm, I’m tired anyway,” John slurred.

            “You can’t go to sleep yet, John,” Sherlock reminded him, sliding his hand down inside John’s pants and fondling his balls. “I have plans for you.”

            John hummed happily. He could get used to this. Then something Sherlock said registered. “You want to fuck me?” John asked, surprised by the idea. Sherlock had always bottomed since they’d been together. Not that John minded switching it up. He was just wondering why now after a month of shagging.

            “If you’d like that,” Sherlock murmured in his ear. His tone was questioning. He was looking for consent.

            “Hmm, yes,” John hummed. He thought about Sherlock’s body, that gorgeous cock. He wouldn’t mind one bit.

            Sherlock smiled against John’s skin and moved his hand up to stroke John’s cock. John let out a low, guttural moan of appreciation. He couldn’t even remember what he was upset about. Sherlock had the affect on him.

            John wasn’t sure when, but at one point he must have fallen asleep. He woke back up a few minutes later, naked in Sherlock’s bed. He could feel heat in his groin and see that lovely head of hair bobbing. John hummed happily and spread his legs a bit wider. “Sorry, love, how long was I out?” John asked, rubbing his eyes.

            “About five minutes,” Sherlock answered, grabbing the lube off the bed and slicking up his fingers. He pressed one inside John slowly, working him open as he swallowed him back down.

            “Oh – Sher – fuck!” John cried out, the sensations overwhelming him. At the back of his mind there was a vague notion that he was meant to be doing something that evening. But looking down, all he could wonder was what was better than this?

            By the second finger, John’s breathing was ragged. He was clutching the sheets to ground himself while the most gorgeous man he’d ever laid eyes on fingered and sucked him into oblivion. “Sherlock,” John chanted out like a prayer. He was close, so close.

            And then it was all gone. The fingers and that glorious mouth disappeared. John let out a groan of frustration and propped himself onto his elbows enough to see what was happening. He thanked his lucky stars he did as he got an eyeful of Sherlock Holmes rubbing lube onto his prick. John could feel his mouth salivating just at the sight.

            Sherlock grinned, probably knowing exactly what John was thinking, the bastard. Sherlock eased a sleepy and pliant John onto his belly before forcing his knees forward and his arse up. It was a vulnerable, slightly embarrassing position to be in. But then Sherlock’s cock was working its way inside him and John lost any complaints. The pillow was soft, Sherlock’s cock was glorious, and his own cock hung heavy between his legs, leaking onto the sheets.

            Sherlock grabbed John’s hips and began to take him. John let out a bunch of pathetic and wanton noises. Even though he hadn’t topped John before, he seemed to know exactly where John’s sweet spot was. John was a mess in minutes, screaming and clawing and begging. Sherlock kept up his punishing pace, making John feel every torturous, wonderful inch of him on every thrust.

            John whimpered. It was too good. Sherlock was too good. How had he gone a month without having this man fuck him? He tossed his head back in the most agonizing ecstasy possible.

            For his part, Sherlock only made the odd soft grunt, mostly letting John’s embarrassingly loud noises fill the room. John clenched around Sherlock, urging him on, silently begging for more to match the loud pleading falling from his lips. He could have stayed there for days, falling asleep and waking up to the amazing sensation of Sherlock’s cock inside him.

            “I want you to come, John.” Sherlock’s lips were against his ear, his breath hot on his skin.

            John had been realizing with each thrust that he _belonged_ to this man. Any agency he’d held before meeting Sherlock Holmes was now completely gone. Was that Sherlock’s intention? Had he made John miss the gala just so he would stay home? Had he wanted to show John just how futile it was? He didn’t really expect John’s full surrender, did he?

            However, at the command to come, John was completely helpless. Any thoughts he had about being his own person were gone. He came so hard and for so long that he felt for sure he would go insane by the end of it. His body wracked with his orgasm and then he felt it all go boneless when he’d finished. If that wasn’t enough to clear him of all his sanity, the realization that Sherlock was still going strong certainly did the trick. Sherlock wasn’t done with him yet.

            John let out a sob at the realization. Damn the man and his bloody stamina! He was probably planning on shagging John until he couldn’t walk, therefore making it impossible for him to leave the flat.

            “Are you ever going to come?” John asked, feeling a bit desperate.

            Sherlock chuckled in response. “I told you, I have plans for you,” Sherlock reminded him. “I’m testing your refractory period. I know it’s usually about half an hour but I’m interested to see if it will decrease with prostate stimulation.”

            “Oh bloody buggering hell,” John cursed. Sherlock was going to fuck him until he came again. “Sherlock, I’m not a science experiment!”

            “No,” Sherlock agreed, fucking John a bit harder. “But you are fascinating. Since we agreed to be monogamous, it’s not as if I can try this on other people.”

            John huffed. “Are you seriously punishing me for asking you to be exclusive? Does the great model Sherlock Holmes resent not being able to fuck whoever he wants whenever he wants?”

            “You considering being fucked by me a punishment?” Sherlock asked, reaching his hand around and feeling John’s cock. It was already showing interest. “Your body says otherwise.”

            John groaned. “No, no, I don’t,” John said, feeling bad for having said it. He didn’t want to discourage Sherlock from topping in the future. “A little warning might have been nice though.”

            “It might have changed the outcome.” Sherlock responded, picking up the pace of his thrusts. He let out a moan that showed he had less control over himself.

            John smiled and began shoving himself back onto Sherlock’s cock, groaning every time Sherlock bottomed out, their skin slapping against each other. Sherlock let out a surprised cry as he spilled inside John.

            Sherlock took a moment to collect himself and then gently pulled out of John. “You ruined it,” he said petulantly.

            “Sorry love, but I’d like to be able to walk tomorrow,” John informed him with a yawn. “Tired.”

            Sherlock let out a disgruntled noise and got out of the bed. John didn’t have time to say anything because he quickly passed out.

 

                                                            ***

 

            Despite his best efforts, John was still a bit sore the next day. He supposed that was just what happened when you got shagged to holy hell by Sherlock Holmes.

            John padded into the kitchen and began making tea. “Sherlock, do you want a cuppa?” he called out. He listened for a moment but there was no answer. He shrugged and made himself one. He looked over at the clock and noticed it was already half past three in the afternoon. Christ, he’d slept the entire day away. No wonder Sherlock was already gone.

            John puttered around Sherlock’s flat, not really knowing what to do with himself. Sherlock had a tendency of leaving John alone in his flat while he swanned off to some shoot or other. John had never really envied Sherlock his lifestyle. He much preferred to be behind the camera than in front of it. But now that they were (dating, fucking) whatever they were, John had had a bit more media attention than he was comfortable with.

            John eventually gave up. He didn’t know when Sherlock was going to be back and he had no interest in waiting around until then. He left a note on the fridge telling Sherlock to text him when he felt like it. He always tried to keep things as casual as possible for Sherlock. God forbid things get too intimate again and Sherlock run for the hills.

            John had just arrived home at his flat when he received a text, then another in quick succession.

 

            Where are you? – SH

            You’re not here – SH

 

            John sighed. Sherlock would have the worst timing in the world.

 

            You’re not usually one for stating the obvious. – JW

            Check your fridge – JW

 

            He took off his coat and shoes before flopping down onto his sofa. His eyes were about to close again when his phone buzzed.

           

            Why did you go home? It’s inconvenient. – SH

 

            You disappeared. I wasn’t going to wait around. – JW

 

            Are you upset with me about last night? – SH

 

            No. Are you upset with me? – JW

 

            Why would I be upset? –SH

 

            I ruined your experiment remember? – JW

 

            Inconsequential. I’ll try again another time. – SH

 

            Maybe some time when I’m a bit more up for an all night shag fest, ok? – JW

 

            I liked you last night. It’s easy when you do what I want. – SH

 

            I’m sure it is. Sorry, I can’t be jetlagged all the time. – JW

 

            Of course not. That would require you being away from me far too often. – SH

 

            It might be the sleep deprivation but that almost sounded sweet. – JW

 

            Come home, I need you. – SH

 

            I am home. – JW

 

            I disagree. – SH

 

John paused for a moment. They seemed to be getting into dangerous territory here.

 

            What are you saying Sherlock? – JW

 

            It would be better if you were here when I need you. – SH

 

            Wait, are you asking me to move in with you? – JW

 

            That would solve the problem, yes. – SH

 

            No – JW

 

            I think you’ll find that it would. – SH

 

            I’m saying no to moving in with you. – JW

 

            Why? – SH

 

            Because more often than not you drive me crazy and it helps having somewhere I can go. – JW

 

            There’s a spare bedroom. You could go there. –SH

 

            Sherlock, it’s only been a month. This isn’t how people do things. – JW

 

            I don’t care about how other people do things. – SH

 

            That’s true. – JW

 

            Will you consider it? – SH

 

            I’ll consider it. But don’t bug me about it, yeah? – JW

 

            I can’t promise anything. – SH

 

John shook his head and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long before sleep took him. He dreamt about a tall, mad bastard that he was absolutely crazy about.

 

                                                            ***

 

            It could be strange for John going to get groceries and seeing picture after picture of his (boyfriend, lover, partner) Sherlock. It was difficult sometimes to believe that he had actually slept with the man. He was wholly waiting to wake up back in Afghanistan with just his camera and some strange dreams about fucking a model.

            John was still contemplating Sherlock’s offer to move in together. It was a tempting one. Would it be good for them? He couldn’t imagine having nowhere to go after one of their domestics. It was nice to have somewhere to retreat. However, Sherlock had asked him to move in. Why? Just for the convenience of having him around? What could he possibly be thinking?

            That was the main problem. John never knew what Sherlock was thinking. The man was a mystery wrapped in an enigma shoved in a puzzle box and thrown off a cliff. John didn’t know how long it would take to unravel the man but he was certain a month wasn’t long enough.

            Yet Sherlock had been the one to initiate the whole mad thing. He was the one who had seduced John wearing nothing but a bed sheet. Now he was the one asking John to move in. Sherlock had given John no reason to doubt him and still John found himself hesitating. Was he really so insecure that he _still_ felt as though he didn’t deserve Sherlock? That Sherlock was going to wake up one morning and realize he’d made a terrible mistake in picking John? What more did John need from him to be certain?

            He glanced back up at the line of Sherlock magazine covers. He noticed the GQ covered that he’d shot and it made him ache with nostalgia. He grabbed a copy and put it into his cart before he could think better of it. When he went home, he put the magazine on his countertop as he put his groceries away. Once when he was finished he allowed himself to pick up the magazine and look through it. He thought about that first time with Sherlock. It still seemed like a dream.

            Feeling soppy and sentimental, he pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock.

           

            I miss you – JW

 

            The reply came almost instantaneously.

 

            If you moved in you wouldn’t have to miss me. – SH

 

            John couldn’t help smiling.

 

            Can I come over? – JW

 

            I’ve told you already that I consider this your home as well. You may come and go as you please. I’ve already had a key made up for you. – SH

 

            You’re the certain I’ll say yes? – JW

 

            I want you to have the key either way. But yes, I do have a tendency to get what I want. – SH

 

            Cheeky bugger – JW

 

            John was out of his door and into a taxi within minutes. Suddenly he had a desperate need to just hold Sherlock in his arms and convince himself that this was all real. Beautiful geniuses with long slender necks and impossible cheekbones didn’t come around every day. What the hell was he holding out for?

When he arrived at Baker Street, he took the stairs three at a time. The door was unlocked and John went inside. Sherlock was sprawled out on the sofa and John quickly made his way over, flopping down on top of him.

            “What on Earth –“ Sherlock began but John silenced him with a kiss.

            “Missed you,” John murmured, nuzzling Sherlock affectionately.

            “You said as much before,” Sherlock reminded him. “You know I hate when you’re redundant.”

            “I know,” John said, feeling affectionate and euphoric. This mad bastard wanted him to move in with him. It was a terrible idea. They’d kill each other within a week. But he couldn’t help but feel so fucking flattered that it’s made him giddy. “Where’s my key?”

            “Does this mean you’re intending to move in?” Sherlock asked, his expression guarded.

            “Mmhmm,” John hummed, kissing Sherlock again.

            “You didn’t seem so keen on the idea when I first brought it up,” Sherlock said, searching John for any sign of falsity.

            “I’ve rethought things since then,” John informed him.

            “Oh?” Sherlock asked, clearly interested.

            “You’re mental,” John said, kissing down Sherlock’s neck and making him moan. “And I find that I don’t mind that so much.”

            “That’s it?”

            “Nope, but that’s all I’m willing to tell you right now,” John informed him.

            Sherlock worried his lower lip. “I feel obligated to tell you something,” Sherlock confessed, lowering his eyes.

            “What is it?” John asked in concern.

            “I didn’t want to go to the gala the other night because I knew some of your former lovers would be there,” Sherlock told him. “So I devised a plan to keep you distracted for the night as an excuse not to go.”

            John blinked a few times. “So all that nonsense about how long it would take me to get it up again was just bollocks?”

            “Oh no, that was true, I devised that during my planning stage,” Sherlock answered. “I wasn’t sure how long I would need to keep you distracted for.”

            John nodded slowly, taking in this new information. “Why does it bother you so much?” John asked, pressing his forehead against Sherlock’s. “We’ve both had partners before each other. Why are mine particularly distressing to you?”

            “Well, you met them all the same way you met me,” Sherlock said, playing with the hem of John’s shirt. “None of them lasted very long.”

            “None of them were Sherlock Holmes,” John said, kissing Sherlock softly.

            “That is true,” Sherlock said, a small smile playing on his lips. John had learned early that flattery would always work on Sherlock.

            “Sherlock.” John put his finger under Sherlock’s chin and lifted his face up to meet his gaze. “You didn’t ask me to move in here simply as a jerk reaction to my former partners and your jealousy, did you?”

            Sherlock scowled. “Certainly not,” he said indignantly. “I…I have a very annoying desire to want you here all the time. I simply acted upon it.”

            John smiled. “Then why are you always picking fights with me?” he asked, running his fingers through Sherlock’s thick curls. “Are you testing my patience?”

            “Perhaps at the beginning,” Sherlock said, pressing into John’s touch. “I wanted to see if you would come back. I am also very difficult to deal with.”

            “But now?” John prompted gently.

            “Now I simply enjoy having angry sex with you,” Sherlock confessed.

            John burst out laughing. “Jesus Christ,” he said, shaking his head. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

            Sherlock smiled in response. “You’re not angry with me, then?”

            “Nope,” John assured him. “Sorry if that’s what you were going for.”

            “Not this time.”

            John nodded and kissed Sherlock deeply. It didn’t take long for the kiss to turn heated. John tangled his fingers in Sherlock’s hair and snogged him desperately. Sherlock turned them so John was pressed against the back of the sofa before sliding his tongue into John’s mouth and making John whimper.

            “What do you want, John?” Sherlock asked, his voice rough with arousal.

            “You,” John panted out, pulling him back into the kiss.

            “No…I mean…” Sherlock tried to speak between kisses but John didn’t let that glorious mouth away from his for too long. Sherlock gave up and just kissed John back. They began to undress each other unhurriedly, shedding layer after layer of clothing.

            “John,” Sherlock tried again, coming up for air. John wasn’t bothered and kissed Sherlock’s neck instead. “Which position would you prefer to be in?”

            “Oh!” John said, understanding Sherlock’s earlier comment. “Doesn’t matter to me, either is lovely.”

            Sherlock huffed, clearly unsatisfied with John’s answer. “The thing is, I think I would like to fuck you again,” Sherlock informed him.

            John laughed. “So fuck me again,” he purred, sucking gently on Sherlock’s Adam’s apple.

            Sherlock groaned and rifled through the sofa cushions until he found a bottle of lube. John stared at it in disbelief. “You stashed a bottle of lube in the sofa?” he asked incredulously.

            Sherlock shrugged. “We don’t always make it to the bedroom. I’ve taken the necessary precautions.”

            “Just how many bottle of lube are there hidden in your flat?” John inquired, grinning in bemusement.

            “At least one in each room,” Sherlock informed him. He made a face as John burst out laughing. “What? It’s practical.”

            John kept laughing and simply shook his head. “I hate to think of when your landlady cleans up the place. What she must think of us!”

            Sherlock chuckled. “Not to worry, Mrs. Hudson isn’t as innocent as she appears. She’s not so easily scandalized.”

            Sherlock opened the bottle of lubricant and poured some onto his fingers. He brought his slippery fingers down and teased John’s hole. John moaned and pressed back greedily against Sherlock’s hand.

            “I had no idea you were so amendable to being fucked, John,” Sherlock hummed, staring down at John as if collecting new data on him. “I thought for sure I was going to have to convince you.”

            John smiled. “I’ve bottomed before with other men,” he answered. “In fact our first time together, I figured that was how things were going to go. You surprised me.”

            Sherlock’s face grew dark and he bit down on John’s shoulder, not breaking the skin but hard enough to bruise.

            “Jesus, Sherlock!” John cried out, surprised by the sudden shift. Then he realized what he’d said and knew he was lucky that was all Sherlock had done to him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, placating his lover and kissing along his jawline. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

            Sherlock growled in agreement.

            John had no idea how someone this gorgeous could be so insecure when it came to other men. “Hey, look at me,” John requested. Sherlock took a moment but he finally met John’s eyes. “I don’t want anyone else, okay?”

            “Your longest relationship has been three months,” Sherlock answered.

            John blanched at that. “How do you know that?”

            Sherlock gave him a look.

            John sighed. “Okay, so? I’ve had terrible luck with relationships. That has nothing to do with you and me.” John kissed Sherlock softly. “I understand why you would have a few doubts but you have to know that you’re different. This thing between isn’t like what I’ve had with other people.” John looked up at Sherlock and could see he wasn’t really getting through. “Sherlock, you’ve tested me, right? You’ve driven me away on countless occasions but I always come back. What other reassurances do you need that I’m all in?”

            Sherlock considered it for a moment. “I suppose we could get married.”

            John groaned. “Sherlock, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?” John slid down until he was settled between Sherlock’s legs. He grabbed the base of Sherlock’s cock and licked up the underside. “You are completely mad,” John said fondly, stroking Sherlock until precome appeared at the tip. He licked it away with a hum and then took Sherlock into his mouth. It had been a while since he had given Sherlock a really Earth-shattering blowjob.

            He took as much in as he could without gagging and worked the shaft with his hand. Sherlock’s hand flew to John’s hair and he made little mewling noises of encouragement.

            John kept his eyes trained on Sherlock. There was nothing more erotic than Sherlock Holmes coming apart with pleasure. His lips were parted and he was breathing heavily. Each time he moaned out John’s name, it made John’s dick ache it was so hot.

            “John, wait, please – “ Sherlock begged and John could tell he was close. John popped off and shuffled forward. He grabbed the lube and poured a decent amount onto Sherlock’s cock.

            “Sherlock,” he said tenderly. “I am yours, you know.”

            John guided Sherlock’s cock inside him and he moaned at the breach. Sinking slowly down, he felt himself stretch slightly but there was no real pain.

            “Say it again, John,” Sherlock said, his voice hoarse and he stared at John in amazement.

            “I’m yours,” John whispered, staring back at him. The air in the room suddenly felt thick as if electrically charged. “God, you sodding idiot, do you not already know that?” John tried to break the tension in the room but it was still there, this weight between them.

            Sherlock pounced, making them tumble off the sofa and onto the floor. John landed onto his back with Sherlock looming over him. John felt the intensity of Sherlock’s gaze but he didn’t shy away from it.

            “John,” Sherlock breathed out, slowly pulling out and then thrusting back in hard.

            John let out a cry of ecstasy and grabbed onto Sherlock’s biceps, holding on for dear life. Sherlock kept up the same rhythm, turning John into a mess on the floor.

            “Sher – Sher –“ John panted out. He let out a startled cry as a particularly well-aimed thrust sent him over the edge. His nails dug into Sherlock’s arms as he came hard onto himself.

            It only took a few more thrusts and Sherlock was following him, groaning as he orgasmed. John watched in rapt fascination. He pulled Sherlock down on top of him and simply hugged him. He could feel the tension leaving Sherlock’s body the longer they stayed held together like that. Unfortunately the floor wasn’t the most comfortable place for a cuddle.

            “Um, Sherlock,” John said, tapping him on the shoulder.

            Sherlock let out a low grumbled and one unmistakable word. “Mine.”

 

                                                            ***

 

            John wasn’t sure this was a good idea. It sounded romantic on the surface – Sherlock and him in Paris for a weekend while John was on a shoot. But something in the pit of John’s stomach was telling him that this was a bad idea. For one thing, John hadn’t even really asked Sherlock to come along. Sherlock had more insisted and John had foolishly not argued with him.

            John was sat in first class, sipping his beer and taking the occasional nervous idle glance over at his companion. He doubted Sherlock would have insisted on coming if the shoot had been with anyone else. Although Sherlock was prone to fits of jealousy, he didn’t seem to consider many a threat. Jim Moriarty had obviously made the list.

            Which was terminally stupid in John’s opinion. He knew about the professional rivalry between Sherlock and Jim. What had transpired between Jim and John was basically nonexistent. It had been one night after a long shoot three years ago. John had just needed a way to get his excess energy out and Jim was certainly willing to lend a hand.

            It had been hot, at the time, and John considered it one of his most successful one night stands. Jim had never pestered him for another go around or to stay in contact. It was like that night existed in a perfect little bubble. Not that John had used any of those words to describe it when Sherlock had interrogated him about it.

            Jim had been intense as a lover, even for that one night. There had been a fair bit of dirty talk, more than John usually did, but there was something about Jim. It was impossible not to get swept up. That was what John feared the most about this shoot. He had only seen Jim a handful of times since that night and John always felt a bit…helpless in his presence. Now Jim had requested John be his photographer for an Armani ad and John had no idea why.

            Not that John had any intention on doing anything with Jim. Even if Sherlock hadn’t insisted on tagging along, John wasn’t a cheater. He could never do something like that to Sherlock. The mere fact that Sherlock had insinuated his presence didn’t sit well with John. He might as well be wearing a huge sign that said “I don’t trust you with Moriarty.”

            Sherlock was on edge as well, John could tell that just by looking at him. His shoulders were tense and he had a sour look on his face ever since they’d left the tarmac. John reached over and took Sherlock’s hand as a small reassurance. Sherlock gave him a small smile in return before looking away again. John sighed softly to himself and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.

                                                            ***

 

            “Johnny!” Jim called out, nearly skipping over to him. His face fell when Sherlock entered right behind John and proceeded to plaster himself as close to John as possible. “Oh, I see you brought company.”

            Jim’s eyes flashed with something that was just a little bit dangerous. He took a step closer to John, which only made Sherlock wrap John up in his ridiculous coat as if trying to hide him from sight. “Sherlock, I don’t fancy being smothered to death by your designer coat,” John informed him, trying to be good-natured about it.

            Sherlock looked as if he’d been slapped but he pulled away so they were no longer conjoined.

            “I’d heard rumors but I wasn’t sure they were actually true. I couldn’t imagine John committing himself to just one person.”

            John glanced over at Sherlock.

            “Trying to ruin our fun, Sherlock?” Jim asked teasingly.

            “I’m simply here with John,” Sherlock responded curtly.

            “Same thing,” Jim said, turning on his heels and walking back over to the set.

            Sherlock let out a disgruntled noise.

            “Down boy,” John whispered. “He’s just taking the piss.”

            “Johnny!” Jim called out, waving him over. “I need you.”

            Sherlock made another noise in the back of his throat. John was beginning to realize what a terrible, terrible mistake he’d made. He patted Sherlock on the arm consolingly and then made his way over with his camera case.

            “Oi, tall, dark and annoying!” Jim called out.

            “I assume you’re referring to me?” Sherlock retorted in annoyance, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

            Jim simply giggled in response. “You can have a seat over there. We might be a while.”

            Sherlock looked at John for support but John simply shrugged, not knowing what else to do. He was _working_ after all. He couldn’t cater to Sherlock the whole afternoon. He knew he should have left him back at the hotel, but there was no way Sherlock would have stayed put.

            Sherlock’s frown grew deeper as he made his way over to where Moriarty had pointed. John could practically see the dark storm cloud over his head as he sat pouting. John felt a bit bad for him. He would make it up to him when he could.

            While they were getting everything set up for the shoot, John kept tabs on Sherlock. He half expected him to simply leave once he got bored. To his surprise, Sherlock stayed right where he was, although he did pull out his phone.

            John, despite what Sherlock often said, was not an idiot. He knew exactly what Moriarty was doing. Jim was all smiles, getting close to John whenever he could and finding reasons to touch him. John risked a glance over at Sherlock and the man looked ready to snap.

            “I’m sorry, Jim, but I’m taken,” John said, trying to let the man down as gently as he could.

            “I don’t know what you mean,” Jim said, flashing a smile. “I’m just being friendly.”

            John wasn’t sure how to proceed. He had called Moriarty out on his behavior and had been expertly evaded. The only other option was to be downright rude and John didn’t want to do that. Moriarty was good.

            John decided that the best course of action was just to focus on the work. He would not engage Moriarty and hopefully Sherlock would be reassured. After all, John wasn’t exactly sure what else he could do. Moriarty might have been a bit of a pain, but that was one bridge John didn’t want to burn. Moriarty had been known to ruin the careers of people he didn’t like. John wanted to stay relatively on Jim’s good side.

            The shoot began and John was relieved to have something else to think about. Of course, having Moriarty as his subject didn’t put the problem completely out of his mind. At least it was harder for Moriarty to flirt while being photographed, but the man still found ways.

            “It’s a shame this isn’t a nude shoot,” Jim said, biting his bottom lip seductively. “It would have been such fun. “

            John ignored his performance.

            “If what I’ve heard is to be believed, most nude shoots with you come with a fantastic shag afterwards,” Jim noted, giggling. “Or during. Naughty.”

            John felt himself blushing. “You shouldn’t believe every rumor you hear, Jim,” John said as evenly as he could.

            Jim smiled innocently and began undoing the buttons on his shirt, revealing his pale chest. John swallowed hard and tried to stay focused. This was just part of the job, having gorgeous men undressing in front of him. Jim ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair, messing it up just enough to look stylish. Christ, the man looked like sex on legs and fuckable as hell. But John was _not_ interested.

            “And that’s lunch,” John called out, clearing his throat. He seemed to have something caught in it. He’d barely gotten the words out when he was yanked back. He looked over and saw Sherlock taking him away to some unknown destination. “Sherlock, you’re going to rip my arms off if you keep that up.”

            Sherlock ignored him, clearly a man on a mission. John sighed and tried to keep up so that Sherlock wasn’t pulling him quite so hard. Sherlock opened a door and suddenly John found himself in a small, dark coat closet.

            “Sherlock?” he called out softly, questioning.

            “I don’t like this, John,” Sherlock blurted out.

            “Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear,” John said, shaking his head. “Don’t you trust me? What do you think is going to happen, that I’m going to shag Jim in the middle of the shoot?”

            “Are you saying there isn’t a precedent for such behavior?” Sherlock shot back.

            John frowned. “You’re a complete dickhead, you know that?” he snapped. “You’re not part of the pattern, Sherlock, you’re the exception. How can you not get that?”

            Sherlock went quiet, clearly rethinking things. John slumped heavily against the wall behind him. “How is it that you don’t trust me at all?” John asked sadly.

            “I do,” Sherlock insisted.

            “Is this what you consider trust?” John asked through gritted teeth. “Insisting on coming to Paris with me? Watching my every move? Dragging me in here to accuse me of I don’t even know what!”

            Another long pause as Sherlock considered.

            “Sherlock, just go back to the hotel, yeah? We’ll talk about this later.” John opened the door but was immediately pulled back.

            “Don’t leave angry,” Sherlock requested softly. “I won’t be able to go if I know you’re angry with me.”

            “I’m not angry,” John said, closing his eyes. “I’m just a bit put out, that’s all. I know what Moriarty is doing, trying to antagonize you by flirting with me. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for him batting his eyelashes at me?”

            Sherlock cleared his throat. “You have slept with him before.”

            “That was before you,” John said gently. He slid his hand up and cupped Sherlock’s cheek. “Now stop being a total git and have a little faith in me.”

            Sherlock nodded and leaned down, kissing John softly. John hummed into the kiss and pressed into it. Sherlock’s arms came down to encircle John’s waist. John was so distracted by Sherlock’s lips, because well, it was hard not to be, that it took him a while to notice they had been rutting against each other like wanton teenagers.

            Which was a terrible idea to be getting off with Sherlock in a coat closet. Damn the man for being so bloody distracting. “Sher- Sherlock –“ John breathed out, sliding his hands down and gripping Sherlock’s arse. Even though he knew what they were doing was wrong, his body wanted more.

            “John,” Sherlock moaned out, his voice low. Moriarty might have been sexy, but between Sherlock’s arse, the lips and the voice, there really was no contest.

            “You bloody idiot,” John said with no real bite behind his words. He lowered his mouth to that pale throat and sucked a lovebite on a place that was unmistakably visible. “You’re going to make this up to me,” John growled, pulling Sherlock hard against him, making Sherlock groan beautifully. He tilted his head up and nibbled on Sherlock’s ear. “When we get back to the hotel, I’m going to tie you to the bed and fuck you. You’re going to be all mine tonight, Sherlock.”

            “John,” Sherlock breathed out.

            John caught Sherlock’s lips and kissed him roughly. Sherlock whimpered against John’s lips in need. John used his grip of Sherlock’s arse to shift the angle slightly and their bodies slotted together perfectly. “Yes, there,” John groaned out, rubbing against Sherlock with abandon. It was such a bad idea, such a horrible, careless idea but before he could think too long about it he was coming. He called out Sherlock’s name and shook in the man’s arms. He was surprised to find Sherlock in a similar state, his eyes screwed shut as he held onto John’s jumper.

            “Oh Christ,” John said, dropping his head back. He was going to have to finish the shoot in this state. “We’re both completely mad.”

            Sherlock grinned and pressed a kiss to John’s jaw. “You should get back.”

            “Are you going to behave now?”

            “Hmm, yes,” Sherlock hummed, clearly satisfied.

 

                                                            ***

 

            Moriarty seemed a bit less interested in flirting once they came back from lunch. Perhaps it was that John and Sherlock had come back looking a mess. Sherlock’s hair was messier than it had been, his lips slightly swollen, and the lovebite John had given him obvious on his neck. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they’d spent their lunchtime doing. Perhaps Moriarty had realized his plans had basically backfired, it was hard to know. Whatever the reason, the rest of the shoot went a lot smoother.

            John was gathering up his things when he glanced over and saw Jim talking to Sherlock. He felt like he should go over and break it up, but before he could, Jim walked away. Sherlock took a moment and then came over to join John.

            “What did he say?” John inquired, shouldering his camera bag.

            “Nothing of consequence,” Sherlock responded, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

            “Come on, tell me,” John urged, nudging Sherlock.

            Sherlock sighed. “He said that you were one of the good ones,” Sherlock informed him. “And he told me not to be an idiot.”

            John blinked and glanced over at Jim. “That’s sound advice,” John noted.

Jim smiled back and gave him a small little wave. “If things don’t work out with him, Johnny, you have my number!” Jim called out.

            Sherlock bristled and dragged John out of the building. He didn’t let go until they were safely in a cab on their way back to the hotel. Even then, he stayed close to John as if he left John out of his sight for a second, Moriarty would swoop in.

            John smiled to himself at the thought and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock took this as an opening and began kissing John desperately. John moaned softly and let himself enjoy it for a moment before breaking the kiss. “Not in a taxi, Sherlock.”

            Sherlock let out a whine and ghosted his lips over John’s. John gave him a small peck in response and pushed his fingers up into Sherlock’s hair, gently massaging the back of his head in reassurance that he was there.

            When they arrived at the hotel, John’s grip in Sherlock’s hair tightened. “Don’t forget what I said,” John murmured into Sherlock’s ear. “On how you’re going to make today up to me.”

            Sherlock shivered slightly, his lips parted and his pupils already dilating.

            John nipped at the base of Sherlock’s throat and then released him. “Pay for the cab and then come upstairs,” John ordered, his voice stern. He got out of the car and sauntered into the hotel, feeling good. He was going to have fun with this.

 

                                                            ***

 

            John was sitting on the bed nonchalantly, his shirt and trousers already off. Sherlock opened the door a few moments later and entered the room, larger than life as usual. John noticed Sherlock eyeing him, his gaze flittering over John’s body admiringly.

            “Strip,” John instructed, wanting to see how far he could push this. He knew Sherlock could take direction but how far before the man pushed back.

            “You didn’t say _please_ ,” Sherlock teased, removing his coat and placing it on the back of the chair.

            “I don’t need to,” John responded evenly. “Because you’ll do it either way.”

            Sherlock hummed in agreement, undoing the buttons on his shirt.

            “Slower,” John ordered, wanting to enjoy each small patch of pale flesh that was revealed.

            Sherlock swallowed hard and took more time with his buttons to an almost agonizingly slow pace. John slid his hand down and rubbed himself through his pants. Sherlock’s eyes followed the movement and then snapped back up to John’s face when John licked his suddenly dry lips.

            Finally the shirt came off, placed on the chair along with the coat. John stood up and walked over. “Very good,” he praised, kneeling down in front of Sherlock. Sherlock’s pupils were blown wide and his breathing hitched with John in this position. John smiled up at him and undid his trousers, pushing them down to Sherlock’s thighs.

            Sherlock was already sporting an impressive erection and John began lapping at it through his stupidly expensive underwear. He could taste the salty bitterness left from Sherlock coming in his pants earlier that day. John smiled at the memory.

            He breathed on the damp spot he’d created, making Sherlock’s cock twitch. “John,” Sherlock groaned out, his voice pleading.

            John stood up and walked behind Sherlock. “You’re not getting off that easily,” John informed him. He pressed in closer and let his erection rub against Sherlock’s backside. Sherlock keened and pressed back against John greedily. John groaned in appreciation, the kind Sherlock’s arse deserved. He then slid his hand up and teased one of Sherlock’s nipples, making the taller man gasp.

            “John, are you going to tease me all evening?” Sherlock asked, clearly getting impatient.

            “I just might,” John shot back, flicking his nail against Sherlock’s hardened nipple. Sherlock hissed and turned around. He grabbed John by the shoulders and kissed him, hard. John smiled against the kiss and allowed it to happen. Sherlock yanked John over to the bed, never breaking the kiss, and pressed John down onto the bed.

            “I’ll do anything you want,” Sherlock breathed out, kissing along John’s jaw. “Just please fuck me.”

            How could John say no to such a request? Still, he had plans. He flipped them so he was on top and then pulled a pillow out from the pillowcase. Using the fabric, he tied Sherlock to the fancy railing of the bed so his arms were stretched over his head.

            “Gorgeous,” John said, sliding his hands down Sherlock’s sides. He hooked his fingers into Sherlock’s underwear and then pulled them down. “How could you possibly think I could want anyone else?” John shook his head a bit sadly.

            Sherlock worried his bottom lip between his teeth and John could tell he was about to say something important. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock gently, ready to hear what he had to say.

            “I’ve never been able to keep a lover for very long,” Sherlock confessed, shifting slightly in his restrained state. He clearly wanted to cover himself up a bit, in order to hide, but John wasn’t going to let him. “I know I’m physically appealing and so people are drawn to me, but they soon grow weary of my personality.”

            “You are an unpleasant sod,” John teased, kissing Sherlock tenderly. “Sherlock, those people were idiots –“

            “True –“ Sherlock interjected.

            “And they weren’t me,” John reminded him, running his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. “Bad experiences in the past don’t dictate current ones. I’m not going anywhere and you’re not going to drive me away, so you better just bloody get used to me.”

            A smile spread across Sherlock’s face when he heard that. “You mean that?”

            “Mmhmm,” John hummed, kissing his way down Sherlock’s torso, feeling the man shiver underneath him. Any annoyance he’d felt towards Sherlock had more or less gone after his confession. Deep down, he’d known Sherlock was only acting out of fear of losing John.

            John slid his hands under Sherlock’s arse, giving it a squeeze. His hands moved further down to the backs of Sherlock’s knees, pushing them forward towards his chest. Sherlock was open and exposed. It was so lovely that John had to take a moment to admire his partner like this.

            John dipped his head down and began lapping at Sherlock’s hole. Sherlock tossed his head back and moaned, squirming against the light, teasing sensations of John’s tongue.

            “M-more, John, please!” Sherlock begged. Sherlock’s cock was red and swollen looking, leaking heavily onto his stomach. John would have loved to suck him if his mouth hadn’t been already occupied somewhere equally as glorious.

            John pressed his tongue inside and retracted it. He was still having fun drawing it out and making Sherlock beg. That deep voice begging was like honey or silk, lovely and smooth and oh so tempting.

            John waited until Sherlock had devolved into just noises and then began to eat him out greedily. Sherlock arched, pulling on his restraints, attempting to press down onto John’s tongue.

            John pulled back, his own need making him cut his fun short. He went to their suitcase and found the lubricant they’d packed for the trip. Sliding up, he kissed Sherlock hungrily as his fingers slipped inside him.

            “John, I don’t need that!” Sherlock growled impatiently. “Just get inside me.”

            “Ah, ah,” John chastised, curling his fingers just so and making Sherlock mewl in response. “We’re doing this my way.”

            Sherlock grunted and captured John’s lips in another heated kiss. John coaxed Sherlock’s lips open with his tongue and proceeded to dominate his mouth. He wanted no question that Sherlock was as much his as he was Sherlock’s. That this wasn’t just a passing fancy.

            When he couldn’t hold out any longer, he slicked up his cock and lined their bodies up. Sherlock was all sharp angles and long limbs underneath him, but gorgeous beyond belief. John eased inside and was unable to hold himself back. The need was too great. He fucked Sherlock into the mattress, finding a pace that felt heavenly as Sherlock’s body squeezed around his cock.

            “I’m not hurting you, am I, love?” John asked, noticing that Sherlock’s eyes were screwed shut.

            “No!” Sherlock shouted. His eyes were open again but hooded. “No, don’t stop!”

            John chuckled and watched Sherlock writhe beneath him. Words were spewing out of Sherlock’s mouth as if he had no control over them. John caught a few of them, hearing his own name quite a lot. He also noticed “good” and “please” quite frequently.

            John changed the angle slightly and knew he was hitting Sherlock’s prostate with much more precision. Sherlock let out a strangled cry and turned his head. He bit down on his bicep to keep from screaming as he came onto himself. Sherlock’s entire body jerked as he released.

            John let out a cry of his own and couldn’t help coming as well after a display like that. His hips stuttered and he pulsed inside Sherlock. “Fuck,” John said, closing his eyes. “Sherlock, that was…” John trailed off. There weren’t words for what had just happened.

            “I know,” Sherlock said softly.

            John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock. He carefully undid his restraints and then kissed him softly. “You’re fantastic,” he murmured against Sherlock’s lips.

            Sherlock smiled against the kiss. “I’m a mess,” he said, glancing down at himself.

            John giggled. “Let’s take care of that then,” he said, hauling Sherlock up and into the shower.

            Sherlock seemed quite tired as John carefully washed away the evidence of their coitus. Then he suddenly whipped around as if he had just remembered something very important. “John,” he said, looking at him intently.

            “Yes, love?”

            ‘When we return home, you’ll probably be quite jetlagged, won’t you?” Sherlock asked, excitedly.

            John’s face broke out into a grin, understanding Sherlock’s true meaning. “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “I just might be.”

 

                                                            ***

 

            John had finally finished unpacking his things, successfully having moved into Sherlock’s flat, of course without any help from the man himself. “Sherlock,” John called out. “If I get a curry, will you have some?”

            “No thank you,” Sherlock answered, sliding into the kitchen in his pyjamas and dressing gown.

            “Sherlock, I know models are all wary of their figures, but you need to eat,” John insisted.

            “I ate yesterday,” Sherlock said petulantly.

            John rolled his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” John asked, feigning exasperation.

            “I’m not sure,” Sherlock said, making his way over to John and sliding his arms around him. “But I’m certain you have a few ideas.”

            John pushed his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and brought him down for a kiss. “That I do,” he murmured softly. “That I do.”

            John looked up into those crisp silver-blue eyes and realized they didn’t need a word. Lover, boyfriend, partner, it made no difference. Each word sounded so small and insignificant. John smiled as he realized that Sherlock Holmes, the mad, brilliant, gorgeous man he was in love with, would never do something so pedestrian as be contained by a single word. John relaxed against Sherlock as he realized that his man, this impossible man, was nothing more and nothing less than everything.

 

                                                            The End

**Author's Note:**

> Just had a random urge to continue the AU set up in "I've Just Seen a Face." Of course Jim had to show up because I love writing Jim. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
